


Adventures in Time (and Relative Dimensions in Space)

by LadyLibby



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, American!reader, Canon-Typical Silliness, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Genetic Rewrite Technology, Grad Student!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not really sure where this is in the show, Love, Past!Ten/Rose, Protective!Doctor, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Burn, Time Travel, but after Rose and Martha, probably also Donna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: Y/N was just trying to settle into Oxford and her history degree when she ran (quite literally) into a tall man in a long brown coat who kept strange devices in his pockets, called himself "the Doctor," and snuck around the halls looking generally suspicious. Little did she know she'd get sucked into his life of adventure and excitement traveling time and space in a large blue police box...
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Reader, Tenth Doctor/You
Comments: 32
Kudos: 97





	1. Hello, Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> In the tradition of Doctor Who, I wanted the debut of this story to be on Christmas! So Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all you wonderful people.
> 
> As with anything and everything I write, I couldn't have done it without my lovely beta reader, Nyvera. A thousand squishes to you, my friend. <3

The rain would start soon, of that she was certain. 

The clouds gathered and bunched together in the sky. A warning shot of lightning lit up the distant horizon. The rumble of thunder followed a few moments later. By the delay between light and sound, she guessed the storm was still a few miles away. 

Y/N zipped up her blue raincoat, walking faster. It was probably raining in London now, the drops falling quick and heavy. People would scramble to get under cover or open their umbrellas. The streets of Oxford, however, remained dry. For the moment. 

Y/N admired Pembroke Street as she walked. Even a year into her graduate program, she still smiled when she passed a red telephone box or a particularly gorgeous old house. The States seemed ugly and mundane in comparison to the long history of Great Britain. It certainly didn’t hurt that almost all of her favorite books originated on the island she would be calling home for another three years. 

A second flash of lightning pulled her from her thoughts. Thunder cracked, overhead this time, as the first drops began to fall. Y/N held her bag close to her body, hoping to save her papers and notes from being too badly damaged. The rain fell faster, coming down in sheets. Y/N ran the last bit of her journey, splashing through the small river forming on the edge of the road. She pulled open the door to the college’s main hall, hurrying out of the downpour. 

Just inside the door, she collided with another someone in a hurry. He was tall, and all she saw before impact were a blue suit and brown coat. She braced her hands on his chest to keep from breaking her nose on his shoulder. He managed to grab her arms and steady her. A pen fell from his pocket and clattered to the ground. 

“Sorry!” She stumbled backwards, embarrassed. 

“Quite alright!” The man said, already moving to continue on his way. 

“Wait,” Y/N called. “You dropped your–” 

She stopped, holding something that was definitely  _ not  _ a pen. It was a long thin cylinder, but it has several buttons and a knob at the end with what might be a light. 

“ –thing. You dropped your thing.” 

“My sonic screwdriver!” He exclaimed, walking back and taking it from her. 

“Sonic screwdriver?” 

He was already rushing down the hall again, ready to crash into something else. Y/N sighed. Y/N pushed all her questions about the stranger aside as she swept her damp hair away from her face. She readjusted her bag and made her way to the archive room, wet shoes squeaking against the polished floor. 

“Look at this.” Arthur said as soon as she entered. 

“Well hello to you too.” She muttered, setting down her bag and coming to stand next to him. “What’s up?” 

“Right, so you know I’ve been working on research for the paper in Benningham’s class,” He began. 

Arthur was Y/N’s favorite classmate in the graduate program for History. They made good friends despite the nearly ten year age difference. He’d been a secondary school teacher for a while before going back for his master’s, making him one of the oldest members of the program. It almost made sense that he’d take the youngest under his wing. 

“The one on the Year Without a Summer? Or the Jacobite one?” 

“That’s the thing, Kid. I was looking at some copies of Byron’s journals from his time in Geneva in 1816 when I noticed this sketch.” 

He held a piece of paper under the light at his workstation. It was a drawing of a young woman in profile from the neck up. The lines were slightly smudged and faded with age, but the features were still recognizable. 

“It’s you.” Arthur said. “Well, it’s your nineteenth century doppelgänger.”

Y/N brushed her fingers over the picture. “That’s so weird…” 

“It gets weirder.” Arthur pulled a folder out from his pile of documents. “I contacted the University of Edinburgh about their documents on the Jacobite revolution and I found these among the other primary sources.” 

The folder was full of pictures of her. There were some sketches and even a few watercolors, mostly half-finished. 

Y/N picked them up one by one, flipping through several attempts at her face, each more defined than the last. The only finished picture was of her in a dark blue dress, sitting beside a window, looking out.

Y/N felt suddenly dizzy. She sunk slowly into the chair beside Arthur. 

“Who painted these?” 

“I don’t know for certain. The painter didn’t leave a signature. Just the year: 1745. They were donated by the descendants of clan Gordon, so based on the year I wonder if these are the work of Hamish Gordon, chief of the clan at the time. He was rumored to have an artistic side.” Arthur said.

“Do you have Scottish ancestors? Or a great great great grandmother who was friends with Lord Byron?” 

“No one was  _ just friends  _ with Lord Byron.” Y/N said. “But no, not that I know of.”

“And you’re not a time traveler?” 

“Nope.” 

“Huh.” Arthur set the pictures down again. “Strange.” 

“Very.” 

Y/N was silent for a moment before a huge smile spread across her face. “It’s kinda really cool, though.” 

They burst out laughing. The archivist shushed them so hard her head looked like it might explode. They only laughed harder. 

~

The only legitimate reason to be thinking critically before nine in the morning was Professor Kellerman’s seminar on women in non-western history. Y/N adored Professor Kellerman’s enthusiasm for her subject, the earnesty she brought to class and her connections with her students. She was known for her worn tweed skirts, horn-rimmed spectacles and a penchant for climbing on top of desks out of sheer excitement. Y/N had told Arthur after the first day, “I want to be her when I grow up.”

The surprise in the room was palpable, then, when Professor Kellerman walked in that morning in a well-ironed black pantsuit, dead-eye stare, and contact lenses. 

The hairs on the back of Y/N’s neck stood up. Y/N gently set her styrofoam mug of tea on the desk, observing the woman carefully. 

“Good morning, students.” Her speech was stilted and cold. 

“‘Morning, Professor” 

“Good morning.” Came the collective and uncertain reply. 

Instead of pacing in the middle of the circle of desks like she usually did, Kellerman sat down at the teacher’s desk outside of the circle. 

“Get out your textbooks and spend the remainder of our time reading chapter four.” Kellerman instructed. 

Y/N raised her hand. 

“No questions,” Kellerman consulted her grading book. “L/N.” 

Professor Kellerman made a point of memorizing and using each of her student’s first names. Something was definitely up. 

Y/N subtly observed Kellerman, glancing at the older woman whenever she turned a page of the book or took a sip of her tea. The one animated and lively professor sat rigid and still, staring at the wall for the entire hour of class. At exactly nine thirty, Kellerman stood up. 

“Class dismissed.” She announced, heading for the door. 

Y/N shoved everything into her bag as quickly as possible, scrambling to catch up with Kellerman. 

“Professor!” Y/N called. 

Kellerman didn’t even turn around. Y/N sighed, dashing to intercept her at the corner. 

“Professor,” Y/N panted, “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes. Excuse me.” Kellerman side-stepped her student. 

Y/N let Kellerman get a little further down the corridor, weighing her options. Thus far, talking was less than helpful. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, no matter what Kellerman said. She took after Kellerman, trying not to dwell on the consequences of stalking her professor. 

Y/N made sure to stay several meters back from the older woman, walking casually and stopping occasionally to say hello to people she knew or to inspect a flyer taped to a wall when Kellerman slowed or looked over her shoulder. She walked well past her office and out of the history department entirely. Y/N followed Kellerman around a corner, towards the administrative suite. 

The door of the classroom to Y/N’s left opened, letting out a stream of undergrads eager to get out of their morning seminar. They jostled Y/N with their backpacks, blocking her view and her way. By the time she pushed through, Kellerman was gone, but she managed to catch sight of the door to the Headmaster’s office closing. 

As she considered whether worry for her teacher warranted listening at the door, a figure appeared at the other end of the hall. Y/N ducked behind the door to the lecture hall, peeking through the glass window. 

The stranger she’d run into the day before strode purposefully down the corridor, brandishing his “sonic screwdriver.” He swept it back and forth, the blue light beaming, as if he were scanning for something. The stranger reached the Headmaster’s door and stopped.

“Ah ha, gotcha.” He said to himself. 

He pressed his ear to the door and listened for a moment. He didn’t go in, instead, he pointed the sonic screwdriver at the handle until he heard a pop and a click. 

“What the–?” Y/N muttered under her breath. 

Apparently satisfied, he placed the screwdriver back into the breast pocket of his suit. He continued down the corridor, hands clasped behind his back, whistling. 

Panic flared in her chest as she realized he was coming closer. She dashed further into the room, hiding from his view as he passed. Once the whistling had gone for several minutes, Y/N re-emerged and began the walk to her next class. 

~

Y/N sat beside Arthur at the front of the classroom, fidgeting with her notebook. She flipped the pages back and forth between glances at the clock. Arthur nudged her gently with his elbow. 

“Hey,” He inclined his head, “What’s wrong?” 

“What? Nothing. I’m fine.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Look, it’s okay. Benningham is always late.” 

“Right,” Y/N nodded, “It’s not a big deal.” 

As if on cue, the door swung open. Only, instead of Professor Jonathan Benningham, an all too familiar character entered the room. He wore a light brown suit, and as Y/N noted with a hint of respect, white Chuck Taylors. His brown hair stuck up like he’d just tugged at it. 

“Good morning, class!” He announced cheerfully. “Today we will be talking about–” 

He cocked his head to the side, trying to read the copy of the syllabus on Arthur’s desk. 

“History! Yes, excellent, history.” He said. “Where to begin, where to begin...we could always begin at the beginning, I suppose. Well, the ‘Big Bang’ as you call it, even though it was more like a big stretch with the relative speed and all, happened about–” 

“Sorry, who’re you exactly?” Someone called from the back. 

“Oh, I’m the Doctor.” The stranger said. “Anyway, the big stretch–” 

“Doctor what, exactly?”

“Just the Doctor.” He replied simply. “As I was saying–” 

“Where’s Professor Benningham?” Arthur asked. 

“He wasn’t really feeling like himself today.” The Doctor said, something in his tone making Y/N sit up straighter. 

First Kellerman, and now Benningham...and this “Doctor” seemed to know all about it. Y/N leaned forward under the guise of note-taking, trying to observe the Doctor more closely. 

He noticed her then. Their eyes met, and she took in his face for the first time. Freckles dusted his cheeks, he had smile lines at the corners of his eyes, and his eyes...his eyes were arresting. At first glance, they were normal brown eyes, maybe a bit deeper than average. When their gazes met, however, Y/N had the strangest sensation of understanding. He had the eyes of an old soul, of someone who had lived a life and would live many more. No, she thought, it was even more than that. She had no idea who this man was, and yet she knew those eyes. She knew him. 

The Doctor paused slightly in the midst of his big bang speech, recognition dawning on his face. He looked away again, continuing to ramble. Y/N didn’t listen to a word, her thoughts churning in her head. The hour passed quickly with the Doctor’s amusing filibuster. At the end of class, Y/N was one of the first through the door. She didn’t want him to pay more attention to her than he already had.

“That was strange, wasn’t it?” Arthur said, tucking his hands in his pockets. 

“Uh huh, sure was.” Y/N agreed distractedly, focusing her attention on her peripheral vision. 

“Did you know him or something? He looked at you like he’d seen you before.” 

“Never seen him before in my life.” Y/N lied, but she didn’t know why. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Doctor leave and head down the corridor. 

“I have to go, um, ask him a question about the Big Bang.” She said, bidding her friend a distracted goodbye, heading after the mysterious man. 

She tailed him stealthily down the corridors and until they reached the administrative suite again. Y/N remained just around the corner with her back to the wall. She waited to hear him open the door he’d messed with the day before. She waited and waited, but she was met with silence. Curiosity got the better of her as she tentatively peeked around the corner. 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to spy on people?” 

Y/N yelped, stumbling backwards. The Doctor stood right in front of her, eyeing her suspiciously. 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on people?” Y/N countered, crossing her arms. 

“No, she didn’t.” The Doctor replied matter-of-factly. 

The Doctor pulled his weird sonic screwdriver thing out of his pocket again. He pointed it at her, scanning her from head to toe. The device glowed blue, emitting an odd whirring noise. Y/N took a step backwards. 

“What are you doing? Don’t point that thing at me.” 

“Human. Interesting.” The Doctor said to himself, ignoring her question.

“Of course I’m human...what, do I look like a giraffe to you?” 

The Doctor smiled slightly, tilting his head as he studied her. 

“Not quite, but there are some similarities.” He said. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.” 

“Why are you following me,  _ Y/N L/N _ ?” He asked. 

“I—” She paused, another lie on the tip of her tongue. “I wanted to know the truth.” 

“Interesting…” he repeated, “The truth about what?” 

“About what’s going on here. My professors are either acting strangely or disappearing. And then there’s you.” 

“Me?” He seemed surprised. 

“I’m not entirely convinced you’re not to blame, Doctor whoever you are. Ever since you ran into me, everything started. You carry a weird sex toy looking thing called a ‘sonic screwdriver’ and you point it at people and then take over a class and talk nonsense for an hour.” Y/N said. 

“You’re right.” 

“What?” 

The Doctor put his sonic screwdriver back into his pocket. “You want to know the truth?” 

“I do.” 

“Come with me, then, Y/N L/N.” He said, holding out his hand. 

She hesitated, curiosity and reason battling within her. Y/N looked at him, studying his eyes again. They were bright, filled with excitement. There was something else in his bearing, a solidness that she felt in her gut she could trust. 

Y/N reached out and took his hand.

He grinned, leading her down the corridor to the Headmaster’s door. The Doctor put his finger to his lips, signalling her to stay silent as he gingerly turned the handle on the door. The reception area was dark, illuminated only by the light from the corridor. The administrative assistant’s desk was unoccupied. Y/N crept around to inspect the desk. Nothing seemed disturbed or out of place, and yet she couldn’t deny the unease pricking the back of her neck. She’d come here once before for a meeting, and it’d been bustling with activity – deans and department heads coming and going, phones ringing, etc. Now all she heard was her own footsteps, muffled by the carpeting below. 

The Doctor motioned for her to follow as he continued further into the suite. She complied, hiding behind him slightly as they approached the door to the main office. The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the door until they heard the faint click of the lock releasing. He opened the door. 

About six people knelt on the floor in rows with their eyes closed. They each wore a strange helmet-like thing on their head with four prongs extending to their temples, forehead, and the base of their skulls. The helmets pulsed with blue light in pattern that reminded Y/N of breathing. She noticed Professor Kellerman on the far side of the group with Benningham by her side. Y/N took a step closer, wanting to free them, but at a loss for how to help. 

Wires extended from the back of the helmets, connecting at the wall and traveling up. Y/N’s gaze followed them her eyes widening at the sight. Black material covered the ceiling, thickening at the center to form a translucent cocoon around...something. The cocoon pulsed blue in time with the helmets and shifted, a large eyeball fixing on her through the membrane. 

Y/N gasped, stumbling backwards. Kellerman’s helmet beeped, the blue light turning red. 

“That’s not good.” The Doctor said, grabbing Y/N’s hand. 

Before the professor opened her eyes, the Doctor had shut the door and pulled Y/N out of the Headmaster’s office. They dashed into the nearest hiding space they could find, pulling the door shut behind them. 

It was a cramped hideout, to say the least. Shelves of what were probably cleaning supplies dug into her back. Y/N could feel the warmth of his chest against her, and if she wasn’t already in shock, she would have sworn she heard two different heartbeats. 

“Don’t make a sound.” The Doctor whispered. 

Y/N heard the Headmaster’s door open. Slow, deliberate footsteps tapped down the corridor towards them. 

She shut her eyes, trying to keep her breathing calm. As if he could sense her oncoming panic, he squeezed her hand. The gesture was unexpected, but welcome. Y/N met his gaze in the dim light of the closet, feeling less like she was about to shake into a million pieces. 

The footsteps kept going, fading around the corner. The Doctor leaned against the door, listening for a moment longer. 

“Alright,” he nodded, opening the door and stepping out. 

Y/N shot out after him, pulling her phone out of her pocket and starting to dial 999 as she sped down the corridor. 

“Hang on, what are you doing?” The Doctor called, jogging after her. 

“Calling the campus police.” She said. 

“What are you doing that for?” The Doctor asked. 

“They can help.” Y/N said. “Yes, hello? Hi, I’d like to report–um, a strange occurrence. Well, I’m a student at Oxford–yes, I know I’m American–” 

The Doctor crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with a bemused smile. 

“Listen, I went to see the Headmaster but there were a bunch of professors sitting on the floor, but they were wearing these weird helmets and I think they’re being mind-controlled or hypnotized or something by this...thing on the ceiling and I need immediate–what? Yes, of course I know this number is for real emergencies. No, I am  _ not  _ ‘on anything!’ This  _ is  _ a real emergency–no, no, don’t hang up you have to listen to me, I–” 

The dial tone sounded. Y/N stopped walking, lowering the phone from her ear in defeat. 

“They certainly sounded helpful.” The Doctor said. “Why don’t you try the real police?” 

“You think you’re cute, but the sass is really not that helpful either.” Y/N snapped. 

The Doctor stopped smiling and straightened up. “Right, sorry. Humans go into shock. Forgot about that.” 

“What do you mean  _ ‘humans _ ?’ You’re human.” She said. 

“No I’m not.” 

“Excuse me?” 

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, you just saw a Xylax with your own eyes and you can’t believe I’m not human either?” 

“A what now?” Y/N asked. 

“A Xylax? Slimy, big eyeball, likes to steal the intelligence of lesser life forms? Surely you haven’t forgotten.” The Doctor quipped. 

“Again, sass not helpful.” Y/N said. “How do you know what it’s called?” 

“I’m the Doctor.” 

“Yeah, we’ve established that. And what does that mean exactly…?” 

“I’m an alien. Well, a Time Lord.” He said. 

“A Time Lord. A Xylax. Aliens actually exist. This may as well happen.” Y/N muttered to herself. 

She took a deep breath, setting her shoulders. 

“How do we stop it?” She asked. 

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “No, no, no. There’s no ‘we.’ I agreed to show you the truth, nothing else.”

Y/N stepped forward, fire in her eyes. 

“Look,  _ Doctor Time Lord, _ that Xylax is stealing the intelligence of some of the smartest, most amazing people I know. I can’t let it continue.” Y/N declared. “You’re here to stop it, right? That’s why you’ve been sneaking around. Let me help you.” 

The Doctor sized her up again. Y/N held his gaze and her ground. 

“Alright, come with me.” He said, turning and striding down the corridor. 

Y/N grinned, running to catch up with him. 

She helped the Doctor find an empty chemistry lab to get what they needed.

“Why is the Xylax stealing their consciousness?” She asked, standing by the door as a look-out. 

“Xylax feed off of mental energy, mostly knowledge, in the early stages of their life cycle. This one is a juvenile, so it needs a lot of food to reach optimal size and strength.” 

“Hence Oxford,” Y/N said, “big brains in abundance.” 

“Exactly. But it’s still shifting and growing, so the knowledge hasn’t quite settled in its system. If we can get to it in the next hour or so, we might be able to get their minds back.” The Doctor explained, scanning a cabinet of vials and grabbing a handful from one end. 

“So how do we stop it?”

“Lucky for us, and rather unluckily for the Xylax, it’s particularly sensitive to acidic substances during development. That’s what the protective membrane is for. But if we can get it out of the membrane and get enough acid into its system it’ll sort of, uh, deflate I guess. As long as the helmets are still on, the intelligence should flow back into their bodies. Any idea where I can find a big syringe?” 

Y/N stepped further into the room, finding the right drawer and grabbing one for him. The Doctor concentrated, carefully filling the syringe with mixture of the acids and compounds he’d grabbed. 

They returned to the Headmaster’s suite. The Doctor leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. 

“Once we’re inside, it won’t take long for them to notice us. I’ll take care of the Xylax, but you have to keep the professors away from me until I can inject the compound. Also, don’t let them take off their helmets.” He instructed. 

Y/N began to giggle. 

The Doctor looked up, confused. “What?” 

“This is crazy. Absolutely bonkers.” She said, still laughing. “But something about sneaking around and trying to stop this...I think it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Maybe I’m crazy too.” 

“Maybe.” The Doctor grinned. “Ready to go get your professors back?” 

Y/N nodded. “Let’s do it.” 

The Doctor opened the door and they advanced toward the office. He tiptoed through the rows of entranced victims. He grabbed a chair, gingerly placing it directly below the Xylax. Y/N remained on the side, surveying the room and trying to come up with a strategy. Her time radically shortened, however, when the Doctor climbed onto the chair and aimed his sonic screwdriver at the membrane protecting the Xylax. The device whirred, glowing blue as the helmets began blinking red. 

“Oh, sh–” Y/N surged forward. 

Y/N commenced the strangest game of Whac-a-mole she’d ever played in her entire life. She pushed the helmet closest to her down forcefully, before reaching down and struggling against the professor to wrap the wires around his wrists. He wriggled slightly, but wouldn’t be escaping anytime soon. Y/N looked up to see another already on her feet and stalking closer. 

“Oh no,” Y/N sighed. 

Unable to think of any other solution, Y/N dove for the older woman’s legs. The professor fell, too disoriented to fight back when Y/N crawled over her to grab the helmet and repeat the restraining wire process. 

The Doctor continued to work, reconfiguring the settings on his sonic screwdriver as the membrane thinned, getting close to breaking. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket to prepare the syringe when he was grabbed suddenly from behind. Professor Kellerman pulled him off of the chair, grasping at the syringe. He pushed her back, holding the syringe out of her reach. 

“Y/N!” the Doctor yelled. “Are you drinking a cup of tea over there? What did I say about keeping them away from me?” 

Y/N looked up, holding one helmet down with her right hand, wrapping wires around another professor with her left, and keeping a third pinned to the ground with her foot. Thank God academics didn’t spend a lot of time in the gym. 

“I AM DOING MY BEST!” She yelled back. 

“Are you sure you can’t do any better?” 

Y/N groaned, looping the wire around all three at once, tying them together back to back like prisoners on a pirate ship. She ran towards the Doctor, grabbing Kellerman’s arms and wrenching them backwards. Kellerman let go of the Doctor, but turned on Y/N. 

“I’m probably not getting an A anymore am I?” 

Kellerman charged, but Y/N side-stepped, scooping a helmet from the floor and jamming it back down onto her professor’s head. Kellerman pushed and struggled against her as Y/N tried to bind her arms against her sides. 

While they scrambled back and forth, the Doctor finally broke through the membrane. Fluid dripped onto the floor as the large eyeball swiveled to stare at him. 

“Now, you may feel a slight pinch.” The Doctor quipped. 

He plunged the syringe into the Xylax’s eyeball, injecting the solution right into the center of its pupil. The creature shivered, energy pulsing outward from the injection site. The professors stopped struggling, slumping onto the floor, unconscious once again. 

Y/N caught Kellerman as she fell, stopping her from hitting her head on the corner of the Headmaster’s desk. She lowered her professor to the floor, watching as blue light flowed back through the wires and into the helmets. 

“It’s working. We did it!” Y/N cheered. 

A shriek of pain interrupted her celebration. The Xylax shrank as the intelligence left its body. Veins in the eyeball protruded and it shook violently, emitting more tormented cries. Sympathy and guilt struck Y/N’s heart. 

“I never asked, Doctor– if we hadn’t stopped it, what would it have done with the intelligence it stole?” Y/N asked, uneasiness in her tone. 

The Doctor watched the alien shrink, an unreadable and dangerous expression on his face. “It would have returned to its ship and left.” 

“It wouldn’t have hurt anyone else?” 

“No. But it hurt them.” The Doctor reminded her. 

“Doctor...is the Xylax going to die?” 

“Without the intelligence it needs to grow, yes. It’ll be too weak to survive for longer than a few minutes.” He said, and Y/N was relieved to see some remorse on his face. 

Y/N looked down at her feet. She wanted to cry. How could she let it die? Yes, it would have hurt people, but it was just trying to survive. Who was she to decide its fate in the universe? Who was the Doctor? 

She nudged on of the wires with her toes, trying to keep the tears at bay. That’s when it hit her. Y/N straightened up, her eyes alight with an idea. 

“How long will it last?” 

“What are you thinking?” The Doctor asked, wary of her newly energized tone. 

“How long will it survive once the intelligence transfer is finished?” 

“Two minutes, maybe three.” 

“Okay, okay, I can work with that.” She nodded, running to the desktop computer on the Headmaster’s desk. 

“What–?” The Doctor watched her, confused. 

“No time to explain. Just grab the wire bundle at the wall where it connects to the helmets and bring it over here when the transfer is finished.” Y/N instructed, logging onto the Oxford student database. 

Realization dawned on the Doctor’s face. “Knowledge! Of course!” 

The helmets blinked blue one last time before going completely dark. The Doctor grabbed the coil of wires, twisting them together and handing them to Y/N. 

“Here, hold this right next to the hard drive.” He said. 

She did as she was told while he twisted and pushed various things on his sonic screwdriver. He pointed it at the wires, which began to meld to the hard drive. 

“Come on, come on…” Y/N murmured, glancing at the desiccated Xylax. 

Blue light pulsed once more, flowing from the computer back to the creature. Thr Xylax grew again, much bigger and much faster. The alien changed from a sickly grey color to pale blue as it took up the entire ceiling. 

The Doctor turned to her, wrapping his arms around her and swinging her in a hug. 

“By plugging into the mainframe, the Xylax can siphon off as much knowledge as it needs without taking anyone’s consciousness with it! That was brilliant!” 

He set her down again.

Y/N half sighed and half laughed. “It was just a wild guess.” 

“How do you think I get by?” 

Professor Kellerman shifted at their feet. She blinked awake, bleary eyed and disoriented. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Her eyes focussed on the alien stuck to the ceiling. “What the–” 

Her eyes rolled backwards and she passed out again. Y/N glanced at the Doctor. He shrugged. Y/N pressed her lips together, only suppressing her laughter for so long. She laughed, releasing all the tension of the past few hours. The Doctor grinned, chuckling with her. 

The other professors began to stir, groaning and struggling against their wire restraints. 

“You should go.” The Doctor said, grabbing her elbow and ushering her towards the door. 

“What? No.” Y/N protested. 

“Let me take care of this. Can’t have you implicated in this and getting expelled. I owe you at least that for helping me.” The Doctor said. 

“I think you owe me more than that.” Y/N countered, desperate to avoid saying goodbye. 

“We can discuss it later.” The Doctor said. 

“Fine.” Y/N relented. “I’ll be in the library.” 

~

Y/N paced across the small length of a study room, back and forth over and over. Arthur watched her from behind the desk, a concerned expression on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

Y/N paused, digging into the carpet with the toe of her shoe. “Nothing…” 

“Well, not nothing, exactly. I’m just waiting.” She said, continuing to pace. 

“Can you wait sitting down? You’re freaking me out.” 

“Sorry.” She sighed, taking the chair across from him.

“How’s your paper for Benningham going? Want to workshop it? Brainstorm?” Arthur suggested. 

Y/N picked at her nails. Where she once felt excitement at the prospect of writing and researching, she just felt numb. All she could think about was the rush of emotion she’d felt helping save those people. Now that she’d tasted adventure, she yearned for more. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

They bounced ideas for her thesis back and forth for a while until it was well into the evening and the library had nearly emptied out. 

“I should get home…” Arthur said, checking his watch. 

“Of course, of course, go.” 

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” He asked again. 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’m just going to wait a little longer.” 

“Okay,” He said, picking up his bag. “Call me if you need me.” 

“Will do.” 

Once he was out the door, Y/N started pacing again. She paced for another half an hour. She looked at the clock. Half past eight. Y/N sat down again. 

“Another half an hour. I’ll wait another half an hour.” She resolved. 

After ten minutes, she dropped her head onto her arms. Y/N sighed, exertion from the day catching up to her in a rush. Her eyelids grew heavy as her breathing deepened. By nine, she was fast asleep. 

One of the cleaning staff nudged her awake a few hours later. 

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” She mumbled, “I was waiting for someone...sorry.” 

Y/N finally gave up. She trudged slowly out of the library and into the crisp night air. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, starting the walk to her flat. Back on the corner of Pembroke Street, she heard a noise. It was strange, like a machine working. 

Y/N stopped in her tracks. A big blue box materialized in front of her, fading into existence in time with the pumping of the strange engine. The box solidified, and Y/N could read “Police Public Call Box” on the top. Had she dreamt waking up and leaving the library, or could it be…

As she stepped towards the door, it swung open. The Doctor stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with his hands in the pockets of his coat. He had glasses on. 

“You’ve got glasses.” Y/N said. 

“So I have.” 

“I quite like them.” Y/N said. “They suit you.”

The Doctor smiled. “Thanks.” 

Silence filled the air between them. 

“So, what’s with the 1950s police box?” Y/N asked. 

“D’you know, you’re the first one to recognize it.” 

“‘The first one?’” Y/N raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s actually called the TARDIS,” He ignored her question. “Time and Relative Dimensions in Space.” 

“It’s a spaceship?” 

“And a time machine.” 

“All in that little box?” She wondered, skeptical. 

“It’s bigger on the inside...If you want–” The Doctor cut himself off, moving to let Y/N past as she barrelled inside. 

She stopped just a step past the entry-bridge, turning in a circle as she took it all in. She admired the blinking lights and golden beams and the expanse of it all. The Doctor leaned against one of the golden pillars as she gently brushed her fingers over the control panel, careful not to press any actual buttons. The TARDIS hummed. 

“She likes you.” 

“Who?” 

“The TARDIS. Her psychic energy can feel you.” He explained. 

“That is...so cool. Is this...” Y/N gestured to the vast ceilings and blinking lights, “Your life? Traveling through time and space, saving people?” 

The Doctor tucked his hands in his pockets, shrugging sheepishly. “Essentially, yes.” 

Y/N hopped up a few steps past the engine, looking around corners. “Does the TARDIS have a crew? Are there other Time Lords?” 

“There used to be.” 

Y/N turned around at his suddenly somber tone. 

“It’s just you?” She stepped closer, her expression tender. 

“Always seems to be in the end...” His eyes looked especially old, gazing at some faraway point. 

“That sounds terribly lonely,” Y/N traced the swirling golden design on the column closest to her, “Saving the world every day with no one to help you.” 

The Doctor inhaled, focussing back on her, a renewed glint in his eye. 

“‘S not that bad.” He said, nonchalantly. 

“No? I mean, without me there today, you wouldn’t have gotten past the History department, let alone keep the Xylax from dying.” 

“I suppose that’s true…” He stepped closer. “I should repay you for your help. Since you’re a historian yourself, perhaps you’d like to get a little advantage on your next paper? We could go right now, and you don’t need to worry about being late. I can even get you back to this very moment, well, as close to this moment as I can, sometimes I’m a few hours off, well there was one time I was a whole year–” 

“Yes.” Y/N interrupted. “Let’s go.” 

The Doctor smiled. 

“Hold on tight.” He reached forward and yanked a lever, setting off the thrumming engine. “Allons-y!” 


	2. Austentatious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend it was all the research I did that caused the long delay...yeah...that's what it was. ;P

The TARDIS shuddered and shook, the engine humming as they spun through the time vortex. Y/N gripped the edge of the main control panel, her heart beating wildly. 

“Where are we going, exactly?” She shouted over the noise. 

The Doctor leapt from one side of the controls to the other, flicking switches, turning dials and pressing buttons. With one last rattle, the TARDIS landed, the engines going quiet. 

“1802. Basingstoke.” 

“What’s in Basingstoke in 18—oh!” Y/N looked at the Doctor in disbelief. “Are we...we’re going to meet—”

“Jane Austen.” He grinned. 

“She’s my favorite author! How did you know?” 

“The quotes on your tote bag aren’t exactly obscure. Any other observant guest professor might have put two and two together.”

“Oh, right.” Y/N waved her hand. “Never mind that, I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet her!” 

She ran for the door, but stopped short. Y/N looked down, noting her jumper and jeans. 

“I don’t look very Regency appropriate...” 

“Well, that’s not a problem!” The Doctor exclaimed. “Just back there and up three levels you’ll find the wardrobe. 

“The wardrobe?” 

“I told you it was bigger on the inside.” He smiled. “I think you’ll find a few options to your liking there.” 

~

Y/N had never been happier in her life. She ran ahead of the Doctor, holding her bonnet down with one hand and her skirts with the other. Y/N inhaled the country air, listening to birdsong. The Doctor followed at a more leisurely pace, watching her in amusement. 

“Come on, then,” She called back at him, “Jane and her sister Cassandra were staying with her friends for much of this year. That’s their estate over there.”

Y/N gestured toward a line of smoke traveling up towards the sky beyond the treeline. She took off again, humming what sounded suspiciously like the theme from the 1995 mini-series adaptation of  _ Pride and Prejudice. _

“Hang on a minute,” The Doctor jogged to catch up with her, “Aren’t you worried about getting in?” 

“Not particularly.” Y/N said. 

The Doctor paused, psychic paper halfway out of his pocket. “Really?” 

“Yeah. The best lies are the ones that have a lot of facts and only one bit that’s a lie. Lucky for us, I’m a historian, so I’ve got plenty of facts. Besides, the hospitality customs in this era were relaxed to the point of risk. We’ll be fine.” 

A smile slowly took over his features. 

“Right. Shall I escort you, then, Miss L/N?” He offered her his arm. 

She inclined her head, smiling. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Doctor.” 

A liveried footman with impeccable posture opened the door for them. 

“Hello,” Y/N said, “I am Y/N L/N and this is my dear friend–” 

“Dr. Smith. Dr. John Smith. How do you do.” The Doctor introduced himself. 

“I’m terribly sorry to bother, but I was hoping the family were in town. I’m a Bigg-Whither on my mother’s side, you see, but my father was American. My parents passed just last spring, so I’ve come to reconnect with my family. Might I be able to speak with them?” Y/N smiled sweetly. 

“I’m not certain–” 

“Oh, please? I’ve come such a very long way.” 

The footman sighed. He opened the door, gesturing for them to enter. 

“If you’ll follow me, Miss L/N, Dr. Smith.” 

Y/N turned to grin at the Doctor. He couldn’t help but smile back, impressed with her resourcefulness. 

“The family are in the drawing room.” The footman took her bonnet and her coat, leading them down a well-decorated corridor. 

Y/N felt nerves pull at her stomach as they stopped in front of a carved wooden door. The footman entered first, and Y/N could hear him speaking to the family. 

“A Doctor Smith and Miss L/N to see you. Miss L/N says she is a distant relation.” 

“A relative? Well for heaven’s sake, Bancroft, show them in!” A deep, blustery voice replied. 

Bancroft opened the door wider, allowing them into the drawing room. Y/N took steady, deliberate steps. She bowed her head with a curtsy. Y/N looked up finally, taking in the room. There were five of them in total, four ladies and one gentleman. The man, presumably the brother, Harris Bigg-Whither, was short and rotund. His face was marked, likely from a bout of pox in his childhood. He waddled forward and spoke in the same boisterous voice she’d heard from the hallway. 

“Harris Bigg-Whither, how do you do.” 

“Y/N L/N,” Y/N said, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

He shook hands with the Doctor. 

“Doctor John Smith, but please, call me Doctor.” 

“Capital!” He said, “Now, allow me to introduce the ladies. My sisters, Alethea and Catherine.” 

Y/N curtseyed to the two women sitting together on a rose colored sofa. They rose and returned the gesture, still holding identical needlepoint hoops. Harris led her over to a whist table. Y/N took in the other two women. Her heart began to pound. 

One was blonde and rosy-cheeked, the other taller with sharp intelligent eyes and dark hair. The drawings Y/N had seen weren’t an exact likeness, but she was unmistakable. 

“Jane and Cassandra Austen,” Harris introduced, “Friends of the family staying with us for the season.” 

Y/N’s knees wobbled suddenly as reality came crashing down on her. This was actually happening. She was in 1802. Jane Austen stood in front of her.  _ Jane f–– Austen! _

The corset was too tight. She couldn’t catch her breath. Y/N pressed a hand to her abdomen, turning to the Doctor. His smile faded as he took in her panic-stricken expression. 

“Are you quite alright, Miss L/N?” Jane asked, stepping forward. 

“Oh, yeah.” The Doctor said, supporting Y/N by the shoulders and helping her to sit down. “Nervous disposition, erm, just a bit overwhelmed. We’ve had a long journey.” 

The Doctor crouched in front of Y/N, searching her face. “Alright?” 

“Yes,” She breathed, managing a weak smile, “I just can’t believe this is actually happening. That it’s really real–to find my family, I mean.”

“I can only imagine.” Alethea said, peering at Y/N. “Once you’ve recovered, I simply must hear your remarkable story, my dear.” 

“Oh, yes,” Catherine chimed in. “How incredible to meet a long-lost relation. And an American at that!” 

“Yes,  _ incredible, _ ” Jane said dryly, eyeing the new pair. 

Y/N took a deep breath to calm her heartbeat. She nodded at the Doctor, managing a bright smile for the others. The Doctor stood, moving to stand behind her chair. 

“My mother was a Bigg-Whither, a second cousin, I believe, of your father’s. Some thirty years ago, she met my father, an American businessman traveling in London at the time. They fell in love and he proposed, but her parents didn’t approve of the match, so they eloped and returned to America.” Y/N said. 

“How romantic!” Catherine said. 

“I always thought so. Their love would not be overcome.” Y/N smiled. 

“Where in America did you grow up?” Jane asked. 

“A little seaside town in New England called Sanditon.” Y/N said. 

“What a peculiar name.” Catherine said. “Sounds fit for one of your stories, Janey.” 

“Indeed,” Jane mused. 

“Are you a writer, Miss Austen?” Y/N inquired innocently. 

“Of silly tales, letters, and nothing published.” Jane replied, smiling wryly. 

“Oh, don’t say that, Jane.” Cassandra said. “She really is very good. She has just finished the most wonderful novel about a young woman obsessed with books who–” 

“Don’t bore her, Cassie.” Jane interrupted. “Did your parents travel here with you, Miss L/N?” 

“Ah, no. They died of influenza last spring. It was their loss that made me want to find the family I had lost. I asked the Doctor to help me in my search.” Y/N said. 

“And you have been successful! How marvelous.” Harris exclaimed, spit flying from his mouth. “And you, Doctor? You’re not a Bigg-Whither as well, are you?” 

“Decidedly not.” The Doctor said. “Only a family friend here to escort Miss L/N on her adventure.” 

Y/N turned, catching his knowing smile. She beamed back at him. 

“Well, you must stay with us while you are here in Hampshire!” Alethea said. 

“Oh, that’s not…” The Doctor made a face. 

“Alethea, dear, you forget.” Catherine put a hand on her sister’s arm. “We will be departing for Town the day after tomorrow.” 

“Well, then, you must come with us.” Alethea said decidedly. “Unless you have other engagements, that is.” 

The Doctor and his companion exchanged looks. He could see she was eager to accept, yet she inclined her head for him to answer. She honored his offer of partnership for what it was: a balance of two wills. The Doctor felt a twinge of pride and affection in his chest. 

“You leave the day after tomorrow? That will do nicely. I have some business here in Basingstoke, and am happy to stay at the...inn for the next two nights. I’ll come join you for the journey to Town.” He turned to Y/N. “How will that suit you, Miss L/N?” 

“It suits me very well, Doctor.” She grinned, then turned to face Jane. “Miss Austen, I should very much like to hear more about your novel. As a young woman obsessed with books myself, it sounds exceedingly diverting.” 

Jane raised her eyebrows in surprise, color tinting her cheeks. “I should like that very much, Miss L/N.” 

~

For the first time in her twenty-three years, Y/N was alive. She’d been in love with history and literature for as long as she could remember. Now, being there, being a part of the worlds she’s only imagined...it was like she’d been asleep and was only now opening her eyes to see the wide expanse of the universe. 

Y/N woke up to the sunlight and birdsong in the mornings. She stretched, enjoying the soft cotton of the sheets. Y/N grabbed a book from the library to take with her on a walk about the estate. She ran into Jane in the corridor, and invited her to come along. They spent the whole afternoon out of doors, enjoying the air. Jane spoke about her family and even confessed the ordeal she’d gone through with Tom Lefroy, just a few years earlier. 

“I loved him.” She confessed. “He loved my writing as much as he loved me. I grieve for the loss of his support nearly as much as the loss of his love. Is that not ridiculous?” 

“Not ridiculous at all.” Y/N assured. “Your work is important, Miss Austen. It is as much a part of you as your bones or your heart.” 

Jane managed a smile. “You’re sure you’re not a writer as well, Miss L/N? You certainly speak like one.” 

Y/N laughed. “Alas, I do not have the skill to bring characters to life in the way you do, Miss Austen.” 

“But you have not read my work. How can you know I am such a great talent?” 

Y/N blanched. “I, erm, I can hear it in the way you speak of others. From our conversation, I feel as though I have met your Mr Lefroy.” 

“Would you like to read my novel, Miss L/N?” Jane asked. “It’s strange, how I have only known you for a very little while, and yet I feel as though you know me. I should like your impression of the piece.” 

Y/N read it that night, while the rest of the party played whist. She marveled at her fortune, holding the original manuscript of  _ Northanger Abbey _ merely days after its completion. Y/N poured over the words, oblivious to the exclamations of winners and losers behind her. She returned the ink-blotted pages to their owner with words of gentle praise. Y/N dreamt of elegant, looping handwriting, kind gentlemen, and happy endings. 

The panic didn’t set in until the morning. 

Footmen carried packed trunks, securing them to the coaches. Alethea and Catherine fretted over the process, concerned with the handling of their gowns. Cassandra sat in the drawing room, saying goodbye to the Bigg-Whither’s cat, Horace. Jane remained inside until the last moment, writing. Harris sat on the sofa nearby, watching her work with a peculiar smile as he pretended to read. 

Y/N paced back and forth in front of the dining room windows, pausing every few moments to peer out at the treeline. 

He said he would be there, she reminded herself, he would be back for the trip to Town. 

But how could she be sure? Y/N barely knew him! Who was this  _ Doctor _ , flying his big blue box through– _ time and space? _

“What am I doing?” Y/N pressed a hand to her forehead.

She’d known him for three days. Three. And she’d only spent one and a half in his actual presence. 

Y/N tried to steady her breathing. “Think, think, think. He’s an alien, a Time Lord. What the hell does that even mean?” 

She paced a few more steps and stopped. 

“He brought you here, Y/N. He cares at least enough to know it’s where I wanted to be.” Y/N took another breath. “Oh, but what if he doesn’t come back? What if–oh God, what if I’m trapped here? Was that the plan? Distract me with excitement and then abandon me in the past with no way of getting home to see my family ever ag–” 

The door swung open. Y/N was met with that familiar pair of eyes. 

“Oh, Miss L/N? Are you ready for an adventure–” The Doctor stopped short as a blur of floral cotton knocked into him. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around him in a fierce embrace. 

“Hello,” He laughed, “You’re the expert here, but I’m fairly certain this falls outside of the usual bounds of propriety.” 

Y/N pulled away and smoothed the front of her dress. 

“You’re right, you’re right.” She laughed, her eyes shining. “I’m just...I’m so glad to see you again. You’re late.” 

“It’s difficult to get things exact.” He argued. “What, tired of the nineteenth century already?” 

“No, no, of course not.” She smiled. “Well, the whole chamberpot thing should definitely remain in the past.” 

He laughed. “Just wait till you see the bathrooms on Alpha Centauri VII. For now, we have a coach to catch.” 

“Well, let’s get going then.”

~

“This looks diverting, does it not?” Alethea exclaimed, stopping suddenly in front of the Lyceum. 

“Oh, let’s go inside!” Catherine said.

The rest of the group stopped, inspecting the sign. 

“Madame Tussaud’s Chamber of Horrors?” Harris scoffed. “Sounds terribly French.” 

“Look,” Cassandra said, “Today is the grand opening!” 

Jane managed to slip her arm out of Harris’s grasp, moving closer. “How peculiar. What think you, Miss L/N? Dare we enter?” 

“I should think so. London has such wonderful surprises. I should hate to miss one. Who knows, perhaps in a few years we will be proud to say we were at the grand opening.” 

“Quite right.” The Doctor agreed, smiling knowingly at Y/N. 

Harris grumbled, but was easily out-voted. Their party bustled inside eagerly. A sizeable crowd was gathered, strolling around the wide space and chattering in hushed tones. 

The display was rather different from the exhibits in New York and London that Y/N had seen. Benedict Cumberbatch, Han Solo, and Queen Elizabeth were nowhere to be seen. Instead, wax depictions of famous criminals and murderers stared out at them as they toured the room. 

Catherine and Alethea clung to Cassandra, electrified by the unsettling wax faces and dim lighting. The girls giggled and shrieked, taking full advantage of an opportunity to take any and all attention. Jane walked behind them, observing the figures keenly. Y/N suspected her rapture was more a ploy to avoid Harris’s blustering conversation than a real interest in the figures. 

Y/N had completed a semi-circle about the exhibit when she noticed a door labelled “Separate Room.” Curiosity piqued, Y/N split off and entered the Separate Room. 

A waxworks lined up on either side of the door, creating a sort of corridor. Y/N recognized King Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, Robespierre and Marat among the number. Y/N walked down the line, studying the smooth, blank faces. She reached the end of the line, standing before a guillotine. It appeared remarkably realistic, down to the texture of the wooden frame. Y/N tilted her head, realization dawning as the blade glinted in the light. 

A shiver ran down her spine as she felt the sudden sensation of being watched. Y/N took a step back from the guillotine. 

Movement flashed in her peripheral vision. Y/N spun around, her heart hammering against her ribs like a wild bird trapped in a cage. 

“Oh, it’s you.” Y/N sighed, pressing a hand to her chest. 

The Doctor laughed, putting his hands in his pockets. “What? Thought Louis had come alive?” 

“Maybe.” Y/N muttered. 

She moved to stand beside him as he leaned forward to examine Robespierre. 

“Is it a good likeness?” She asked. 

“I don’t know,” He shrugged. “I’ve never met the man.

“Oh, I guess I just thought you’ve met everyone.” Y/N said. 

“You’d think so after 905 years, wouldn’t you. But no.” The Doctor said. “I did meet Marat, though.”

He spun round, looking at the famous French martyr. “He had bigger ears. And a huge mole on his nose.” 

“Death masks can only capture so much detail, I suppose.” Y/N said. “Also, um, did you say 905 years?” 

“I am 905 years old.” He said, “Does that make you uncomfortable?” 

“No, not exactly.” Y/N said. “You look good for your age.” 

He chuckled. “Time Lords regenerate, which tends to help a bit. This is my tenth...form, I guess you could say.” 

Y/N studied him. 

“It’s so strange, but I’m not surprised by that at all.” Y/N said. “I’ve always sort of felt much older than myself. Like I’ve lived many lives before that are all floating just beneath the surface, but I can’t quite remember who I was.” 

He turned to face her, his deep, ancient eyes examining her. 

“I’ve never told anyone about that before.” She whispered. “I always worried I was crazy…”

“Maybe you are,” The Doctor said. “But so am I.” 

A smile bloomed across her face. 

“There you are!” Alethea and Catherine stood in the doorway. 

Y/N took a step back from the Doctor, suddenly very aware of the few inches left between their bodies. 

“These figures are far too...unsettling. I cannot stay for another moment.” Alethea declared. “We are going back to the house for tea.” 

“Yes, tea sounds like just the thing.” 

The Doctor offered Y/N his arm as they followed her “cousins” out of the Separate Room. 

They were so distracted by Alethea’s chatter that they neglected to notice the wax heads turning as they left. 

It was a pleasant walk back to the house. Harris led, Jane’s arm clamped tightly in his again. She nodded, lips pressed tightly together as he complained about something or other. Cassandra and Catherine followed, heads bent together in youthful secret sharing. Y/N and the Doctor walked a few meters behind the rest.

“Thank you for this adventure, Doctor.” Y/N said, smiling. “It’s been truly wonderful.” 

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, pride swelling in his chest. 

It’d been so long since his journeys had brought such joy to someone. He’s almost forgotten how nice it felt to make others smile. 

“What do you think? Will the chamber pots drive you to escape by tomorrow?” 

“Harris might beat them to it.” 

He laughed. Y/N smiled along, until another flash of movement caught her eye. She stopped, looking behind her. Nothing but the street. 

“Alright?” The Doctor asked. 

“Yeah, I just thought I–wait...where’s Alethea?” 

She couldn’t be seen ahead of them with her siblings or walking behind. Y/N backtracked, looking in the windows of shops they’d just passed. No Alethea. 

Y/N heard rustling in the alley to her left. They arrived just in time to see the back of an adorned and frilled coat disappearing over the stone wall. Y/N caught a glimpse of the man’s pale, smooth face in profile as he escaped. 

“Doctor,” Y/N said, “I think that’s…” 

“Robespierre. Yes.” The Doctor said, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, this is brilliant!” 

“What’s brilliant, Doctor?” said a voice directly behind them. 

The Doctor and Y/N both jumped, fumbling to grab hold of each other. 

“My God, Alethea, you frightened me!” Y/N exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest. 

Alethea didn’t reply. She merely looked at them. 

“Well,” The Doctor said after a moment, “Best go join the rest of the group, now.” 

“Right.” Alethea said. 

She turned around and led the way back to the street, taking small, precise steps. Y/N and the Doctor shared a look before following. The Doctor leaned his head down, speaking low into Y/N’s ear.

“Does her skin look a bit...waxy to you?” 

“Undoubtedly.” Y/N said. 

“This just keeps getting better.” He reached down and took her hand. “Come on, then!” 

He held her hand, pulling her along as they ran out of the alleyway and down the street. 

“So the figures are alive...somehow. How can they move? Are they robots coated in wax? Wax aliens?” 

“I have no idea.” The Doctor said. 

“Why would they want to turn people to wax?” Y/N asked. 

“I have no idea.”

“Some help you are.” She tugged on his hand, pulling him to a stop. “What’s the plan here, because I think we should split up.” 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Well obviously it’s all about the museum. That’s where we’ll get the answers, but we can’t both go. One of us should keep an eye on Alethea. Can’t have her turning anyone else to wax, but out of the two of us, you’re definitely the one who will understand whatever is going on. You go to the museum and I’ll go back to the house and try to lead her back to you at the museum.” 

“What if Alethea tries to turn you to wax?” 

“I’ll melt her, I guess.” Y/N touched his arm. “I’ll be fine. We shouldn’t waste any more time. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

She turned to go, but stopped as his long fingers encircled her wrist. Y/N looked up at him, confused. 

He smiled. “I’m glad I met you, Y/N L/N.” 

“I’m glad I met you too.” She smiled back. “Now, allons-y already!” 

They took off in opposite directions, each wearing matching grins of exhilaration. 

~

The Bigg-Whither party arrived back at home. Bonnets, hats, and spencers discarded at the door, they began to separate for the afternoon. 

“Catherine,” Alethea said stiffly, “Would you accompany me to the library? I require your assistance in finding a book.” 

“Alright,” Catherine agreed. 

“Excellent.” Alethea’s mouth split into a shiny smile. 

“Where is Y/N?” Cassandra asked Jane. 

“She was just behind us.” Jane agreed, concerned. 

“I’m sure she’s with that peculiar Doctor fellow. Not to worry.” Harris brushed off their concerns. 

“They do seem rather close, don’t they? I did think he...” 

Alethea ignored the rest, leading Catherine down the corridor to the library. She shut the door behind them, stalking slowly behind her sister as she wandered through the shelves. 

“Which book is it, Thea?” Catherine asked, looking up at the stacks. 

“Oh, I can’t remember the title, I think it was  _ The Adventures of _ ...Yes, the adventures of someone or something.” 

Catherine peered at the titles, running her fingers across the spines as she searched for the book. Silently, Alethea crept closer until she stood directly behind her sister.

“I really don’t know why you could not do this yourself, Alethea.” 

Slowly, Alethea reached forward, her waxy fingers extending towards the back of Catherine’s neck. Her index finger was merely a hair’s breadth away from touching skin when the library door burst open. 

Catherine spun around, gasping in surprise. Aleathea stepped back quickly. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Y/N said, laughing. “I thought that door would be heavier. I pushed a bit too hard.” 

Alethea stared intently at the American, her waxy lips pressed tightly together. Y/N merely smiled back, walking further into the library. 

“Have you found anything good?” Y/N asked. 

“Thea’s after some adventure book. I am here to help locate it.” 

“I’ll help too.” Y/N said. “The Doctor just told me we’ll be leaving soon.” 

“Oh dear!” Catherine exclaimed. 

“It is a shame, I know.” Y/N agreed, before turning to lock eyes with Alethea, “But I plan on spending every moment I have left with my dear cousins in your presence.” 

“Oh, how splendid!” 

“Indeed.” Alethea said blandly. 

~

Back at the exhibition, the Doctor walked along with the crowd for a few moments before ducking down the hidden corridor. With one last look behind him, the Doctor entered the “Separate Room.” 

It appeared the same as before, two rows of figures lining the sides, ending in the guillotine. Each wax face stared straight ahead, lifeless and immobile. The Doctor pulled his glasses from his breast pocket and put them on. The sonic screwdriver came out next, and he began his examination. The screwdriver hummed and glowed. 

“Don’t mind me, Robespierre old pal, only doing a little test…” 

He passed the device over the figure from head to foot. Nothing. Just wax. But how could it be just wax and still...

“Ah!” He exclaimed. “That’s clever! Is it clever?” 

The Doctor held the screwdriver in his mouth, pulling up a long splinter of wood from the floor. With the deft hand of a surgeon, he made an incision at the ankle and sliced upwards. He split the wax apart, reaching into the figure until he found exactly what he was looking for. 

“Gotcha!” The Doctor exclaimed. 

He pulled it free, the momentum knocking him over as he grasped his prize. He lay on his back, holding it to the light. It was metal, slightly square-ish, with several blinking lights and slashed markings on the edges. Before he could read them properly, the box was knocked from his hands. 

“That’s not yours to play with, little boy.” 

He looked up, smiling. “Madame Tussaud, I presume?” 

~

“Oh my dear Catherine, darling Alethea,” Y/N said as they left the library, “Even though I must go soon, I want so desperately to take a bit of your lovely English fashion with me. Will you advise me?” 

“Oh, yes! We should like nothing better.” Catherine practically jumped for joy. 

Alethea said nothing, waxy face completely expressionless. 

Catherine took her “cousin” by the hand, leading her to the room she shared with Alethea where she sat Y/N down at the dressing table before the mirror. Alethea followed, standing silently by the door. 

“You’re best suited to dark tones, I think.” Catherine said, surveying her closet before withdrawing several dresses. “What do you think of this, Thea?” 

“Very green.” 

“Terribly helpful, thanks.” Catherine sniffed, continuing on without consulting her sister again. 

Y/N tried on several ensembles while Catherine peppered her with advice on which shops were best, which fabrics were hardest to clean, and that she should wear deep greens and blues as much as possible. 

“Y/N, may I dress your hair for the evening?” Alethea finally interrupted. 

Y/N looked at her in the mirror’s reflection, noticing the gaze narrowed on the back of her neck. A shiver of unease ran down her spine as she formulated a plan. 

“Of course, dear Thea.” She smiled. “But please let me do your hair first, as repayment for what a lovely hostess you have been. I promise I shan’t make it too atrocious.” 

Alethea was quiet for a moment, face blank as though the gears inside her head were spinning. 

“Yes, alright. Mine first,” She tilted her head, smiling. “Then it’s your turn, cousin dear.” 

Alethea sat down at the dressing table. Y/N picked up a hairbrush and ran it through her hair once, then twice. She swept Alethea’s golden locks over one shoulder as if to put it in a plait. Instead, she focused her attention on the little metal circle at the back of Alethea’s neck. Giving into impulse more than any kind of logic, Y/N pressed it firmly with her index finger. 

Alethea’s eyes went wide and she doubled over, as if in pain. She gagged, falling onto her hands and knees. With one more retch, she regurgitated a little metal cube. 

“Thea!” Catherine exclaimed. 

Y/N held her arm out, stopping the other woman from getting any closer. Y/N grabbed an empty glass from the dressing table and trapped the cube inside. Just to be safe, she stacked a book on top. Satisfied that the cube wouldn’t be going anywhere imminently, she approached the woman shaking on the floor. 

“Alethea?” She asked quietly, reaching out to the other woman. 

Alethea whipped her head around, her expression stricken. Her skin, however, looked normal again, if a little pale. 

“What–what happened?” Alethea stuttered. “I was in the market and then someone touched the back of my neck...how–how did I get here?” 

“You fell ill, darling. You should go to bed.” Y/N turned to Catherine with an  _ I’ll explain later  _ look. 

Alethea nodded, letting Y/N help her to her feet. Catherine played along remarkably well, tucking her sister in. As soon as her breathing evened out, Catherine grabbed Y/N’s arm. 

“What on earth is going on?” Catherine hissed. 

“To be completely honest, I’m not entirely sure…” Y/N admitted. “But um, the Doctor will explain. Probably. I should find him…” 

The cube began to shake, rattling against the inside of the glass. 

“That can’t be good.” 

~

The woman leered down at the Doctor. 

“Madam Tussaud is the name these silly humans call me. You must be rather stupid to disturb my museum, so you may call me Madam Tussaud as well.” 

“Everyone calls me the Doctor.” He hopped up, holding out his hand to shake. “Not quite a pleasure to meet you.” 

Madam Tussaud stood speechless for a moment. She faltered just long enough for him to dash off and scoop up the metal box. 

“Put that down!” She screeched, running after him. 

He held it above his head, backing away from her haphazardly as he examined it. 

“What are you doing with a consciousness simulator? Oh, and I see you added some agility modifications...interesting.” 

He jogged away from her, backwards, only to be stopped by King Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette. They wrestled the box away from him, pinning his arms behind his back. They pushed him towards the guillotine. He struggled, but continued to talk. 

“That’s how you got the wax to move like a human, but what about Alethea? How did you turn a human to wax? Some kind of carbon manipulator? Why?” 

“Quite the character. I think I’ll make a figure out of you.” Madam Tussaud chuckled darkly. “You’re going to die in a moment, Doctor, so I suppose you may as well know. I arrived on Earth ten years ago, fleeing the tyrannical dictatorship of my home. The revolutionary spark was just beginning to catch in France, and I saw something that reminded me of home, of my own rebellious cause. I watched with excitement and anticipation but...it was all for naught. These silly humans have no idea how to rebel properly. Now, it’s my time to show them.” 

“By turning them to wax?” The Doctor asked. 

“By raising an army and conquering their silly little world.” She corrected. 

“But then...wouldn’t you be the tyrannical leader?” 

“I–” She faltered again, but only for a second. “Kill him.” 

The wax royals forced the Doctor to his knees in front of the guillotine. Marie Antionette pressed his head down into place. He turned his head and bit her hard on the hand. In the subsequent commotion, the Doctor managed to slip a hand into his pocket, digging for the one thing he needed. 

“Ugh!” He spat the chunk of wax onto the floor. “You need to eat more fruit, your highness. That is  _ not _ healthy.” 

“Shut up and die already!” Madam Tussaud pouted. 

“I don’t think I will.” The Doctor replied, whipping his sonic screwdriver from his pocket.

He pointed it at the string holding the guillotine blade, and the strings began to unwrap themselves. At the same moment, he put out his leg, tripping Louis XIV as he came forward to grab him. The Doctor stood while the King fell. The blade plummeted and once again, Louis XIV lost his head. 

“Now,” The Doctor sighed. “Let’s negotiate, shall we?” 

~

The cube shook violently, slamming against the glass. Y/N shifted on the balls of her feet, unsure whether it was safe to approach. She began to worry the glass would crack when the cube landed, sitting still. 

It pulsed once with golden light before— 

“Is that contraption...growing?” Catherine asked, baking up to the wall. 

“Maybe.” Y/N said.

“Is it covering itself with wax?” 

“Almost definitely.” 

“What do we do?” Catherine asked. 

“I don’t know.” Y/N said.

The glass was nearly filled with wax. 

“But I’m going to make something up.” 

“Are you certain that is the best idea?” 

“Not at all. Do you have any matches?” 

The glass began to lift as wax spilled out the bottom. Tendrils extended outward, creeping across the floor like fingers. Catherine pulled a drawer open and threw the matchbox to Y/N. 

Y/N’s thoughts spun as she considered her options.

“Okay, Catherine, wake Alethea up and take her away.” 

Y/N took in the wooden floor, wooden desk, and wooden bedframe. 

“Actually, you know what? Get everyone out of the house.” 

Catherine obeyed, shaking her sister awake and helping her to her feet. Catherine sidestepped the growing column of wax on the floor. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, turning back to Y/N. 

“What about you? What will you do?” 

“I’ll be perfectly fine.” 

Y/N smiled, but Catherine could see the fear in her eyes. Catherine nodded, ushering Alethea out the door. The wax grew taller, something that looked like a head pushed its way up as arms separated from the rest of the smooth mass. 

Y/N ran to the window pulling the curtains back. She watched as Catherine pushed the rest of the household out, despite Harris’s bickering. She ripped a square of the bed sheet. Y/N attempted to open the matchbox but her hands were shaking so badly she spilled half of it on the floor. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Y/N managed to pick up a match. She gripped the box tightly, striking a match. 

Legs pulled apart from each other as the figure stepped towards Y/N. It reached an arm out, trying to grab her. She backed until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Y/N scrambled up onto the mattress. 

Before she could change her mind, Y/N held the match to the sheet until it caught. She threw the burning cloth at the rapidly forming wax figure. Miraculously, the cloth stuck to the figure’s chest. Flames licked upwards as the wax began to melt and drip downward. Faster than it had grown, the figure collapsed. Melted wax spread across the floor, harmless to everything except the little metal cube which sparked and short-circuited.

Y/N’s relief was short lived, however, as the fire wasn’t so easily defeated. The legs of the dressing table began to smoulder. She tugged the quilt free, hoping to smother the blaze before it got out of hand. Her foot had barely grazed the floor when she cried out in pain. The stupid wax was still really hot. She hoisted the quilt and evaluated her aim when the door burst open. 

“Y/N!” 

She couldn’t help the grin from spreading across her face. “Doctor!” 

He faltered, taking in the state of the room. The Doctor stepped through the wax with nothing but a wince and took the quilt from her. He dropped it over the desk, patting it down firmly until the fire was completely out. The Doctor looked at Y/N with a bemused expression, gesturing to the slowly cooling puddle on the floor. 

“That wasn’t Alethea, was it?” 

~

Y/N sat down heavily in a wingback armchair. Jane sat beside her, with two glasses of brandy in hand. Wordlessly, she handed one to Y/N who gratefully accepted. 

The Doctor had said  _ something _ to everyone before he came up to help her. Y/N was too exhausted to ask, but it seemed to have convinced everyone that nothing was out of the ordinary. Well, almost everyone. 

Catherine kept a wide berth from both Y/N and the Doctor, as if they had some sort of disease she did not want to catch. 

“Y/N, I was wondering if I could speak to you...about a personal matter.” Jane said, looking into the dark liquid in her glass. 

“Of course, Jane. Anything.” Y/N leant forward, covering Jane’s hand with her own. 

Jane scanned the room, wrinkling her nose at the sound of Harris’s loud voice. 

“Let’s speak somewhere more private.” 

She took Y/N’s hand and pulled her up, leading her to the library. Jane shut the door, turning to Y/N with a somber expression. 

“Harris asked me to marry him.” She confessed. “And I have accepted him.” 

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “Jane, no!” 

Jane let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t wish me joy?” 

“How can I? Jane, you cannot marry him!” Y/N insisted. 

“Y/N, I don’t have a choice.” Jane sighed. “I’m twenty-seven and my family has very little money. With Harris–” 

“You’ll be absolutely miserable.” Y/N said.

“He’s not Tom, but I’m not likely to find anything else I love so much.” Jane said. 

“What about your writing?” Y/N asked. 

“I’ll have to give it up. Harris has already expressed his... _ distaste _ for the art.”

“All the more reason to refuse his offer.” Y/N said. “Jane, you don’t need a husband, and certainly not one as odious as that man. You are the greatest writer I have ever encountered. Do not give up on this. Do not give up on yourself.” 

Jane was quiet for a moment.

“I do have other ideas in mind…” She mused, the sparkle returning to her eye as she looked up at Y/N. “Has anyone ever told you you look like an Elizabeth?” 

~

Y/N trudged through the TARDIS doors, hands fumbling to untie her bodice. She took a big gulp of air, enjoying the full expansion of her lungs. The Doctor headed to the center console, pressing buttons and pulling levers. Y/N leaned on a nearby column, watching him work with a smile. 

“You never told me how you got Madam Tussaud to back off.” Y/N said. 

“You could say I gave her a glimpse into the future.” He replied as the engines roared to life. 

“So you told her about all the money she’d make?” 

“Oh yeah, that was a big hit.” 

Y/N laughed, and the Doctor grinned at her. Her smile softened as she moved closer, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. The Doctor was taken aback at first, but soon relaxed, embracing her. 

“That was the best week of my life. Thank you for the adventure, Doctor.” She said, pulling away.

The Doctor studied her for a moment as he grappled with his thoughts. He inhaled, stepping back to the console. 

“Well, this is hardly the end. I’ve shown you the past. It’s only fair to take one trip to the future.” He said with practiced nonchalance. 

Y/N bit her lip to hide her smile. “Right. Only fair really.” 

“Right then. Hold on to something!” He exclaimed, yanking a large lever down and sending the TARDIS spinning back into the time vortex. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my love Nyvera for all her help <3

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be out soon...
> 
> Until then, let me know what you thought in the comments!


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